You Can't Always Get the Marquess You Want

by Alexandra Hawkins

  Tempest opened her eyes when his fingers abruptly withdrew and Chance covered her with his body. She felt his rigid staff brush against her belly as he adjusted his position until he settled between her legs.

  With her eyes shut, she had not seen the lines of tension becoming more pronounced on his face. His gray eyes were dark and intense as stared down into her face. The time he had spent soothing her fears and heightening her desire for him had come at a price. It had eroded his restraint, as his needs demanded to be assuaged.

  “Too fast,” he muttered, struggling to maintain control of what he had begun. “I always seem to lose my head around you.”

  “Do you wish to stop?”

  “No!” There was a feverish look in his gaze when he lowered his mouth to hers.

  His hand slipped between them, and she felt him adjust his manhood. The blunt head pressed against her drenched folds, and he guided the rigid flesh deeper.

  Instinct had her tightening her legs around him, but her action only increased the pressure as his arousal tried to meld into hers. Chance rocked against her, and suddenly her growing discomfort became a burning pain as her flesh enclosed his manhood and he possessed her fully.

  She and Chance gasped. His head dropped until his forehead rested on her shoulder. She swallowed, and realized what discomfort she had initially felt had eased as his hard flesh filled and expanded within her.

  Then he began to slowly withdraw. Tempest wondered if Chance was done, but he pushed into her and filled her again. His breath was ragged when he raised his head, but his hips seemed to move of their own volition. Soon the steady pace of his manhood thrusting into her created a new kind of tension within both of them.

  “Do you feel it?” he asked, blindly reaching for her left leg and wrapping it around his hip. The slight change in position deepened his thrust, and the groan of pleasure vibrated from his chest and into hers.

  A curious heat washed over her as Chance’s pace increased, and a new tension was growing in her body. He must have been feeling it as well. His fingers dug into her buttocks and his thrusts lost their fluid rhythm. Two hard thrusts, and he collapsed against her, setting off a chain reaction of sensation within her.

  Tempest arched against him, driving him deeper. Her soft cries mingled with his hoarse shout as his manhood expanded within her. Her inner muscles clenched around the pulsing flesh and she felt the warmth and wetness of his seed fill her.

  They were both shaking from the pleasurable onslaught. Neither one had the strength to move. Tempest closed her eyes and fought back tears as her feelings overwhelmed her, knowing Chance would keep her safe.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  His heart was pounding so fiercely in his chest that he thought it might burst.

  Mathias thought only elderly gentlemen risked death after a vigorous coupling, but if he were fated to perish in Tempest’s arms, then he would die a very happy man.

  “You almost killed me,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

  Tempest sniffed and hiccupped against his chest. “I am still trying to draw air into my lungs.”

  Already, he could feel his sated cock withering within her snug sheath, so he carefully pulled out so he wouldn’t cause her further discomfort. He reached over and pulled the sheet over them. Tempest’s skin was damp with sweat, but he thought she would appreciate a small gesture of modesty.

  Mathias rolled onto his side and pulled her against him so he could see her face.

  “You’ve been crying?” His heart stuttered in his chest. “Did I hurt you, darling?”

  I was too eager. Too rough. I deserved to be flogged for upsetting her.

  “No, I am fine,” she began.

  “Don’t lie. There are tears on your cheeks, Tempest.” The sight of them offended him so much that he wiped them away with his thumb.

  “Chance, you didn’t hurt me.” She hesitated, and bit her lip. “Well, maybe in the beginning it hurt a little.”

  Mathias didn’t make a habit of debauching young innocents. Tempest turned out to be the exception to most of his rules when it came to women. He had taken her maidenhead, and he knew from a few casual conversations with his friends that some pain was to be expected with an untried miss. The knowledge didn’t improve his opinion about his clumsy lovemaking.

  “I will be more careful with you,” he solemnly vowed.

  “You were,” she said, touching his face. “It was all a little overwhelming, that’s all.”

  Mathias offered an unsteady nod. In the last few minutes, he could sympathize with her reaction. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and nudged her closer. She laid her cheek against his chest.

  The thought of being the cause of her tears was enough to make him want to blubber.

  “This changes things,” he murmured into her hair.

  She sighed. “You will want to do this again.”

  His cock stirred, reacting to her words.

  Not now, you greedy flockpate!

  Mathias placed his hand over the growing bulge under the sheet just in case she noticed his unruly body. “Have you in my bed? Yes, I could get used to cuddling with you in my bed.”

  Tempest traced the diameter of his left pap, and the flesh beneath her finger hardened. Everything she did tended to make him hard. “Just the cuddling part?” she asked, trying to appear innocent.

  Mathias not-so-gently pushed her onto her back, and he moved on top of her. “No, you make me greedy. I want it all.” He took her hand and brought it to his loins so she could feel the proof of his desire. “If you weren’t sore, I would already be inside you.”

  “I don’t feel too tender,” she protested. “We could—”

  Mathias shook his head. If he listened to another word, he would pull the sheet back and push his cock inside her. “No,” he said, softening his rejection with a kiss. “I don’t want to hurt you again. I can wait.”

  Now that he had been given a small taste, he knew he would have her again.

  And again.

  He rolled onto his back and tucked her against his side so he had the pleasure of holding her in his arms. His friends were likely to ridicule him for acting so besotted over a lady, but he would endure their teasing. Tempest was worth it.

  “Soon I will have to play coachman again, and drive you home,” he said, feeling too content to let it ruin his mood. As long as Tempest was tucked into her bed before her mother returned home, Lady Norgrave would never suspect that her daughter had spent the last few hours in his bed.

  “So this will be our secret?” She raised her head from its comfortable perch on his chest and met his gaze. “You won’t tell your friends.”

  Mathias raked his fingers through his hair. He did not keep secrets from his friends, but that was not her first concern. Tempest was worried that their families would learn of their relationship. This was their first night together, and he didn’t want to ruin it with the truth.

  Their families would eventually know about him and Tempest.

  How could he be so certain?

  Mathias planned to tell them.

  * * *

  The next morning, Mathias was summoned to the Blackbern town house.

  McKee opened the door and stepped aside so he could enter. “You are late, Lord Fairlamb,” the butler said, confirming his statement by checking his watch.

  “It couldn’t be helped, McKee,” Mathias said, handing the servant his walking stick and hat. “I had an appointment near St. Paul’s that was imperative I keep. Where are my parents?”

  “The drawing room,” the elderly servant replied, favoring his right leg. “If you will follow me—”

  “Rest your knees. I will show myself up,” he said, overruling the McKee and heading to the stairs.

  “Very good, my lord.”

  “Mathias!”

  He looked up and saw his youngest sister, Constance, overhead. “Good day to you, runt,” he said, increasing the pace of his ascent. “I thought Mother to
ld you to stop climbing the stair railings?”

  The seven-year-old girl gave him a broad grin that revealed she had lost a front tooth. It explained why her lisp had become more pronounced. “Mama says I can climb anything as long as someone is watching.”

  He plucked her off the sloped balustrade and tossed her over his shoulder. “The duchess was not giving you permission to fall on your head in front of spectators.”

  She giggled as he carried her up to the remaining stairs and continued to the drawing room. Mathias strode through the opened doors and grinned as his mother and father hastily moved apart.

  “A thousand pardons for interrupting,” he said, pivoting halfway so Constance could wave to their parents. “Look who I found on the stairs again.”

  “Constance!” the duchess said, rising from the sofa and walking toward her children. “How many times have I told you that it isn’t safe to climb the balustrade?”

  “Is that how she knocked out her tooth?” Mathias teased, bouncing several times on his heels to make his sister laugh.

  “Her face is turning red,” his mother said, hovering nearby in case she needed to interfere.

  Mathias rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet the color is quite flattering.” He had handled all five of his siblings in the same manner when they were younger, and he hadn’t dropped anyone on their head.

  “Chance, put her down before all her blood drains out of her ears,” Blackbern ordered, leaning back on the sofa and enjoying the chaos of their arrival.

  “Hear that, runt? Papa says no more dangling like a silly monkey.” He gave her a quick hug and bent down so she could stand.

  “No!” Constance wrapped her thin arms around his hips and leaned against him.

  Mathias expelled an exaggerated sigh of regret. “Sorry, my girl. Papa’s ‘no’ overrules yours.”

  The duchess sensed an impending tantrum for the youngest Rooke, so she immediately took charge of the matter. “Constance, McKee has been searching for you.”

  “What does he want?” Her dark blue eyes stared up at her mother with hurt and suspicion.

  “You have to talk to him.” The duchess leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “However, I want your promise that you will stay off the balustrade as you search for him downstairs.”

  Constance pouted, proving that age didn’t matter. Rookes did not like to lose. “Fine. I promise.”

  His mother nodded approvingly. “Good. Now, give your papa a kiss before you dash off to your next adventure.”

  His sister ran to the duke and kissed him on the cheek. She grinned up at Mathias as she passed him, and she disappeared through the open doors.

  “Is McKee looking for her?” he asked his mother.

  However, it was his father who responded. “The man dotes on her. If he doesn’t have a treat tucked away somewhere, he’ll have Cook prepare something special.”

  Mathias nodded and got down to business. “My apologies for being late. I had an appointment I could not cancel. Why did you summon me?”

  “Problems?” His father sat up, suddenly alert.

  He thought of the several hours he had spent at Doctors’ Commons. And the importance of what he had procured. “Not at all. Just a little personal business.”

  Although he was bursting to tell his parents the good news, he was doing everything out of order. “Did something happen?”

  “That’s odd, I was about to ask you the same question,” his father said, motioning to one of the chairs. “Sit down, Mathias.”

  His father usually called him by his nickname, so if he was using his first name, something had happened. “What’s wrong?”

  The duke glanced at his wife. Wordlessly something passed between them before his mother shook her head. She returned to the sofa and sat down.

  “Chance, we have been hearing rumors,” his mother explained.

  Mathias glanced from his father to his mother. “When do either of you listen to town gossip?”

  The duke’s visage darkened. “Usually, I wouldn’t give a damn about rumors. However, this one connects you with a certain lady.”

  Feigning disinterest, he touched his cravat. “Father, are you truly in a position to chastise me about my private business?” His eyebrows lifted. “Because if half the rumors about your wild misspent youth are true, I look forward to hearing every detail. Perhaps we should adjourn to the library and talk about this over some brandy.”

  His father glared at him.

  “Tristan,” the duchess murmured, placing her hand on her husband’s arm. “Mathias, stop baiting your father. We are merely concerned. There are rumors that you have been seen in the company of Lady Tempest Brant.”

  Of course this was about Tempest. If he had been caught with a courtesan or if he had installed Miss King in his grandmother’s town residence, his mother and father would not look half so worried as they did now.

  “It is true, I have met Lady Tempest,” Mathias said, deciding not to lie since Lady Norgrave had also seen them together. “What of it?”

  “Are you courting her?” his father asked, appearing to brace himself for his son’s reply.

  “Do you require a reporting of my conversations with the lady?”

  “To ease your mother’s mind, it might prove helpful,” was the duke’s grim reply.

  Mathias sent his mother an apologetic glance. “Well, I regret I cannot oblige you. However, I can assure you both that my exchanges with Lady Tempest have been respectful and above reproach.”

  An unbidden vision of Tempest spread out naked on his bed crept into his mind. Before he had driven her home, he showed her another way he could love her—with his face buried between her legs and his mouth kissing her so intimately that she screamed as her blinding release surprised her.

  It was perhaps his favorite moment of the evening.

  He did not know Thorn had returned home until his cousin pounded on the door, demanding to know if Mathias had murdered the wench in his bed. Thorn was startled when he recognized the lady, but he recovered quickly. He apologized and closed the door. Poor Tempest had been mortified that their carnal mischief was no longer a secret, despite his assurances that his cousin would not tell anyone.

  Did Thorn tattle?

  “You may view this as a grand jest, but Lady Tempest is not one of your conquests,” his father snapped.

  The duchess appeared uneasy discussing her son’s private life, and Mathias could sympathize. He was damn uncomfortable.

  “Lady Tempest is not your concern,” he said coolly.

  “She is if you are thinking with your cock rather than your head!” The Duke of Blackbern stood up and glowered at his heir. “Don’t give Norgrave a reason to confront you.”

  Annoyed, Mathias sneered, “Lord Norgrave doesn’t worry me. Do you fear him, Father?”

  His mother came to her feet. “Stop it. Both of you.”

  Rage filled his father’s blue gray eyes. “Don’t push me, Chance. You will not like the results.” The duke’s contemptuous expression was cutting as much as it was insulting. “Whatever you are doing with the lady, end it.”

  His mother often claimed he had inherited his temper from his father. Mathias arched his right brow. “And if I choose to ignore your sage advice?” he taunted.

  “Then I will put an end to it,” his father said with silky menace. “And neither you nor Norgrave will like my methods.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “So what did Papa wish to discuss with you?”

  Tempest and her sister had accepted an invitation to watch fireworks at Vauxhall with Harriet and her betrothed, Lord Medeley, his sister, and Lord Chandler. Since their arrival, their little group had increased in size with Lord Warrilow’s late appearance. Even Oliver had stopped by to pay his respects while they had been enjoying their supper boxes. He had been alone, Tempest noted, but she doubted her brother would remain alone for long. If Miss King was not waiting for him, the gardens were filled with attractive y
oung ladies who would be drawn by his handsome dark looks.

  Unfortunately, the viscount was unhappy to have a new rival for Tempest’s attention, but Lady Joan had not bothered to conceal her delight. Perhaps she had heard the news that Lord Norgrave was pressing for the marquess to make a decision soon.

  * * *

  “Lady Tempest promised to meet you,” Rainbault reminded him. “You are too impatient. Stop pacing and join us. Drink some ale. If you persist in glowering at their little group, one of the gentlemen is bound to notice and wonder why.”

  “Let them wonder,” Mathias grumbled. “I would be happy to inform them that they are flirting with my lady. I’m not going to be cast aside like an unwanted suitor and let Warrilow hold her hand while they watch the fireworks.”

  St. Lyon blocked his path. “Chance, her friends are not the only ones to avoid. While I was chasing after a buxom brunette near the pavilion, I believe I recognized Marcroft.”

  “Are you certain it was him?” Mathias demanded.

  The viscount’s hands parted in surrender. “Like most of the gentlemen present—including us, I might add—Marcroft is wearing a mask. The gentleman I saw at a distance had the earl’s broad shoulders and rude bearing. If it is Marcroft and he learns you are close, he will retrieve his sisters and stuff them in the nearest hackney coach.”

  Mathias cursed. When he received Tempest’s note, he had not anticipated that she would be surrounded by friends and suitors.

  “Lady Tempest knows you are here,” Thorn announced.

  “How the devil do you know?”

  “When the others aren’t paying attention, she keeps glancing in our direction,” his cousin replied.

  His calm demeanor infuriated Mathias. Just once, he’d relish observing Thorn lose his composure over a lady.

  Rainbault selected a piece of chicken from the plate in front of him and popped the meat into his mouth. His brow furrowed as he chewed. “It is getting darker, Chance. Perhaps your lady is waiting for everyone to be distracted by the fireworks.”

  Five days had passed since he argued with his father. He had caught glimpses of Tempest twice, but there was no opportunity to pull her aside and talk to her. Kiss her. He needed to hold her and hear from her lips that she had not been deliberately avoiding him—or regretted gifting him with her innocence.